I pray that you were blessed by Part 1 of "Sounding the Trumpet Call: An Interview with William Levi." If you haven't read Part 1, please click HERE for a little more background information about Messianic Jew, William Levi, his work, and his mission. His story is a fascinating one, heavy with grace, and I pray that it will touch your spirit and resonate with the trumpet call of Christ's calling upon your own life.
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Before going any further, I'm also so full of joy to share with you that my devotional, This Last Surrender, is now available in paperback and on Kindle. It is a 31-day devotional for women who seek a deeper walk with Christ. I pray that it will a great encouragement. Here are the links for purchase on Amazon:
And now, for Part 2 of Sounding the Trumpet Call: An Interview with William Levi
When did you come to the United States?
By the grace of God, I finally
arrived safe and secure in the United States of America on August 28,
1988. It had been 27 years since I
escaped from my native country of Sudan, yet I knew that my journey was
just beginning. My travels spanned four
continents and three seas and by 2004, my travel had gone 360 degrees. In
January 2004, 18 years later, I returned back to South Sudan to my small
village of Beth Israel, which had become
a wilderness after 18 years in desolations. I founded myself standing in the
same foundation of the ruin of my family house where my parents blessed me in
January of 1985, before I left for America in the midst of persecution. I had
passed the great river, I had crossed a vast desert, and I had lived as a
stranger among people who were strange to me, yet so many of them also have
become my extended families in Yeshua. They have embraced me in the Love
of Yeshua and we become brothers and
sisters. My journey had been fraught with
uncertainty and peril; but God had kept me through it all, as
though refining me by fire. After my brief sojourn in Egypt for 18
months and Turkey for three months, I spent another 18 months in Lyon,
France. The French people were very kind
to me and I was permitted to remain in their country. French was language number four for me,
and I studied it with a vengeance as I worked dead-end jobs to get by. I soon realized that it would take several
years of study to reach a level of fluency necessary for a college
education within the French university system.
Still, I kept trying to advance myself.
Meanwhile, I discovered that truly godly men like Father Nus were not
all that common in the “Christian” west.
Although Europe in general and France in particular had much to
offer, the post-Christian values of the French culture were quite a shock
to my sensibilities. The moral codes shared by Christians in Africa were
considered to be old-fashioned by the Europeans; and many European churches
were lukewarm in their enthusiasm for the Gospel. Still, I managed to find a church family in
France.
After nearly two years in
France, God finally opened the door for me to travel to the United States. The opportunity was like a dream come
true for me. As my airplane arched into
the sky, I felt like my life was about to start all over again.
Upon my arrival in the USA in 1988, I briefly
stayed with an Irish American family in Milton, MA whose son, Late Mr. Michael
Greenan, whom I met in Egypt in 1986.
After three weeks in Milton, MA, I decided to go to Washington DC to
apply for a political asylum and meet the US immigration obligation. I took a Greyhound bus from Boston, MA and
upon arrival in Newark, NJ train Station, I stepped out of the bus, thinking
that I arrived in Washington, DC but rather I was still 266 miles away from my
final destination. At that point, I decided to pray and seek God for answers. I
got a clear directive from His word. “The place where you are is a holy
ground.” Newark, NJ would become my home
for the next 8 years. It was in Newark
NJ where the Lord dealt with me. He set
my feet on the rock. I knew I could not
do without Him. I knew I had to obey His word and His Voice. As He says in John
15:5 -8 “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch
cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you
unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in
me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. If
anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and
they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned.…abide in Me,
for without Me you can do nothing.” So it was in Newark, NJ that the Lord
planted me in a city in the late 80s considered to be the number one crime city
in America. But the Lord was with me. As
Jesus says in His word, obedience is better than sacrifice. I knew I had to be in the Word of God and in
the will of God. I knew I had to be in fellowship with the body of Christ. I knew
I had to be grounded in a local church. I knew I had to be legal in the country
and obey the law of the land. I knew I
had to find a job, work with my own
hands, as the Bible says: Psalm 90:17: May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands
for us-yes, establish the work of our hands.
Arriving in America with nothing,
except my Bible, I knew, first thing was first. As the Bible
says "Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and the rest
will be added unto you. " In 1988, 27 years ago, upon my
arrival in the USA, I had a lot to learn before getting too
much ahead of myself. When I arrived in the USA, I committed my life
and plan to the Lord and asked him to help me direct my path in
America. In obedience to the word
of God, I had to overcome youthful temptations and the desire of the flesh
which America has plenty to offer. I was all by myself. But I also knew that I was not alone, Christ
in me. I tried faithfully to stay
grounded in the Bible and sought out a community of true believers in the
household of faith whom I considered to be my family. It as Proverbs 3: 5-6 says, "Lean not on
your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct
your path." After 3 and half years of sleepless nights
of college education and work, I ended up holding a degree in
Manufacturing Engineering from NJIT in 1992. Then in July 1993, I answered
God’s call in my life to establish Operation Nehemiah Missions to help
alleviate the plight of my people back in South Sudan.
How and when did you come to know the Lord Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?
I’m
going to start my testimony of Salvation here. It has been 37 years since coming to the
Lord. My Spiritual journey has been triumphant seasoned with a lot of
blessings, challenges and opportunities to be a witness for the Great
Commission. In this journey, I have gone
through the valleys and the mountain tops and walk through the tableland. All in all, these experiences fulfill the
promises that all believers have to go through to be true disciple of Yeshua.
It is to refine us as we go through the refining process to conform us to the
image of Yeshua for the Glory of God as we read in Romans 5, James 1 and 1 Peter
4, 2 Peter 1, etc.
Last year, on the 9th, May
2014, I went back to the village of Opari Nykanigwa, Eastern Equatoria, South
Sudan with my wife Hannah and our six children where I surrendered my life to
Yeshua on December 25, 1977. I was
barely 13 at the time. Last May, 37
years later, I came back with Spiritual fruits of 7 souls that God entrusted to
me (Hannah and the children) whose lives have been intertwined with my own on
this spiritual journey. I’m like Peter
saying, “I have nowhere else to go, I have tasted the goodness of God’s grace
and found my resting place in Yeshua,
and have no other argument." "So Jesus said to the twelve, 'You do not want
to go away also, do you?' Simon Peter answered Him, 'Lord, to whom we
shall go? You have words of eternal life. We have believed and have come to
know that you are the Holy One of God.'"…John 6: 67-69.
It was here where I grew up
both physically and spiritually. Opari Nykanigwa is located in
Eastern Equatoria in the midst of a very beautiful expanse of mountains
and rivers. What a blessing it was for me to bring
my family after 37 years, still walking in the faith I had embraced in
Yeshua and to stand on the Kulojobi River bed where God transformed my life as
a young lad into a new man. As you read in my book, The
Bible or the Axe, “ it was here for three years 1975-1977, I received discipleship under my Grandpapa Bishop Andea Vuni who
baptized me on Christmas of December 25,
1977 Hannah and the children were
so touched. It was December of 1977, and the quiet, brown
waters of the Kulo-jobi River lapped and eddied along rocky banks that had
been exposed by the long dry season.
The dry season was the time of baptism in most villages, because
that was when the waters were calm.
In August, torrential rains would swell the river bed-and the
Kulo-jobi would rage and boil again.
It wouldn’t do to have congregants swept away by the currents.
I stood on the shore as a skinny boy of thirteen that December, feeling
the packed dirt beneath my bare feet.
It was a happy feeling. Tall
grasses bent and rustled as a warm breath of dry air soughed across the
savannah lands, mingling the scents of sun-dappled vegetation and hot
earth. The mountains stood out in sharp
relief in the blue sky beyond the wooded riverbanks. It was easy to think
about God’s great love for me as I drank in the beauty of my surroundings.
I barely noticed the others
from my baptismal group as they gathered by the river. The mood was
reverent, and people spoke only in whispers as we all waited for the
ceremony to begin. Finally, my grandfather appeared and stood beneath a
huge old tree by the riverbank to address the congregation. As he spoke, I studied the water that
flowed gently behind him. I was
about to venture into that water to be immersed! The river was muddy this time of year,
and I hoped that there was nothing sinister lurking in the shallows. Alligators, snakes, and even sharp rocks
might be waiting for me there, but grandfather didn’t seem to be even a
little bit concerned. I shook off my childish fears and began to listen to
the sermon. It was time to become a man
and a full member of the church. I
wanted to be ready. Once again, the text for grandfather’s sermon was
from Ephesians. He spoke of the
struggles that we would endure if we chose to cast our lot with Jesus Christ. “Yeshua
was a man acquainted with grief,” he said.
“If you wish to partake of His glory, you must understand that you
will be asked to partake of his suffering.” The congregants nodded at
grandfather’s words. Every single person
there knew what it was like to be targeted for persecution. “Are you
willing to lay down your lives for the sake of the gospel?” It was quiet
except for the cheerful song of a colorful bird and the chirping
of insects in the grass. Each
person pondered grandfather’s words, fully understanding that they might
eventually be called upon to do just that. Grandfather surveyed the crowd
before him, love and pain mingled in his expression. “A good soldier must be prepared to die. But we have God’s armor, protecting our
eternal spirit against the devil’s schemes.”
I was too young to completely understand the
implications of grandfather’s words. Yes, we had lived as refugees, and I
knew that boys like me were sometimes stolen from refugee camps to become
slaves. I also knew something of war; and
I knew that my own father believed that our current peace agreement was a
fragile one. But I didn’t
really imagine that I would ever be asked to deny Christ or face
death. Grandfather, though, knew
from experience that some would die for their convictions, and he had
been working to prepare his congregation for just such a
possibility. “Put on the helmet of salvation, and the breastplate of
righteousness,” he continued. “Make sure your feet are shod with the
preparation of the gospel of peace.” I looked down at my toes. Little puffs of dirt swirled up between them
as I dug them into the dirt of the riverbank. I tried to imagine that I was wearing gospel
shoes. The image was an odd one, but I understood that the scripture
wasn’t talking about real shoes, or real armor. The war, though, was very real. “Most
importantly, learn to wield the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word
of God.” Grandfather was finished with his sermon, and we all sang a
hymn. It was time for the baptismal
ceremony to take place. Murmurs of
excitement rose all around me as everyone jostled for a better view.
It was a special time for everyone, because
most families had at least one member preparing for this sacrament.
When my name was finally called, I walked toward the great tree that served as
a podium for our outdoor gathering.
Its branches spread lazily overhead, swaying softly in the
breeze. Great roots twisted into the
riverbank at crazy angles, jutting up like solid benches; perfect for
sitting on. Grandfather looked into my
eyes, and I sensed that he was studying my face very carefully. He was searching for something in my
expression, but I wasn’t sure what that something could be. “William
Ochan Levi,” he said. “Your enemy will come.” I nodded dumbly.
Without a word, grandfather produced an axe and placed it on a broad root of
the great tree. Next to it, he
placed the Bible. Then he turned and
focused his gaze on me once again. “When your enemy comes to destroy
you, which weapon will you choose?” Would it be the Bible, or the
axe? I was taken aback by the
question. If my enemies were coming
towards me, preparing to kill me, I would certainly want to have that
broad, sharp axe in my hand. I could almost
feel the heft of the smooth wooden handle, worn by years of hewing
trees.
The sharp head of the axe was
a perfect counterbalance to the haft, and I knew what it felt like to send
the sharp steel ringing into a sturdy trunk. Surely the axe would give me a fighting
chance against the swords of the jihad. For we battle not against
flesh and blood… The words of my scripture lessons flooded my mind with a
new clarity. Suddenly, I understood that
I would never be able to fight my enemy with a weapon of steel. Almost as
if by instinct, my hand reached for the Bible. Grandfather smiled,
and I thought I detected a fleeting expression of relief. “You have chosen the right way,” he said
at last. We waded together into the murky water, and I no longer thought of
snakes and alligators. I knew that
I would have to trust God for my life just as I trusted Him for my soul. I emerged from the water a changed man. From that point on ward, I’m pressing on the
race set before us.” This has been my
spiritual journey. No regrets. I’m pressing on to the upwards callings.
Please join me next week for part 3 of this encouraging interview.
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